


she will bear three girls

by lavenderseaslug



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Gen, families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:51:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderseaslug/pseuds/lavenderseaslug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a quiet afternoon at downton abbey</p>
            </blockquote>





	she will bear three girls

When Cora looks at Mary, her eldest, she sees the things she longed for – the fire and passion that came second to her desire to please her parents and to be the dutiful daughter. She watches the young girl reaching for Isis’ tail, the patient dog ever willing to indulge the child’s whims. Mary finally grabs the twitching tail and gives a little shriek of joy and Isis playfully nips at her hand, eliciting another shriek.

Cora hears a sigh from next to her and looks to quiet, retiring Edith, with her nose in a book, a silent shadow to her older sister. Edith, who is everything Cora was growing up. Edith, who cleans her plate at mealtimes and never fights over vegetables. Edith, who often gets lost in the shuffle. Cora wonders if Edith minds coming second to her sister, or if she even knows. It isn’t in her nature to complain, but Cora knows by now that when Edith is upset by the actions of her sister, there will, likely as not, be a spider in Mary’s bed that evening.

She lets her hand drift over her protruding stomach, not yet used to the feeling of life growing inside of her, even after two daughters. She knows Robert wants a boy, wants an heir, but she hopes for another girl, one to balance Edith and Mary. Mary is a realist and Edith is practical. She hopes this new child will be a dreamer, believing in the unknown and the good. An optimist. Her fingers slowing dance a pattern along her abdomen and she feels a slight kick. She thinks this one might be her favorite, even though a mother isn’t supposed to choose.

Robert comes into the room, taking a rest from the affairs of the estate to see the women in his life. From the doorframe, he smiles at the sight – his dog and his eldest daughter in a playful tussle, his middle child sitting quietly next to her mother, nose in a book. And his wife, pregnancy suiting her, her hand idly rubbing her stomach.

Cora looks up and meets her husband’s fond gaze, a smile lighting her features. She stands, slowly, dislodging Edith from her book and Isis lets out a happy bark at the sight of her master. “Robert,” she says, her voice coming out a low purr as she walks towards her husband, and Robert thinks that there will never be a woman as attractive to him as the woman right in front of him. He gently kisses her cheek and takes her hands in his.

“Perhaps today is a day for a picnic,” he says and his daughters look up eagerly, Edith going so far as to close her book and glance at Mary to corroborate approval. He looks outside and the sun is shining brightly, the rolling green lawns looking inviting. “I’ll have Mrs. Patmore put together a basket for us.” He places a kiss on Cora’s head and she ushers Edith and Mary to their rooms to get the proper attire for eating out of doors.

The hall is quiet when Cora returns downstairs, her hat firmly fastened with a few pins. Robert follows, basket in hand, an eager dog at his heels. “Ready, my dear?” he asks, offering his arm and she settles her hand into the crook, a better fit than any glove.

“Mmm,” she agrees, leaning slightly against her husband, enjoying the brief respite from their children and the opportunity to just be with this man. His free hand finds her stomach, and he smiles at the movement he feels inside.

“This one will be a fighter, I can tell,” he says, hope in his voice. Cora’s hand joins his, their fingers intertwining. “Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter.” He knows she wants another girl, knows she likes to run her fingers through long curls, knows it won’t be long before Edith and Mary will start to throw off their mother’s affectionate touches.

“Either way,” she answers, her voice quiet. Sybil, for a girl, and Nathaniel, if it’s boy. Either way, they’ll be happy. She trusts in their future, knows they’ll stay as close as their joined hands on her stomach. She dislodges her head at the sound of her daughters emerging from their rooms, racing to the stairs, Edith losing woefully. Mary was always first, and Edith always second. But it’s Edith who reaches for her mother’s hand as they leave the house, Mary running ahead with Isis. The lilting sounds of laughter carried back towards the estate, an echo of the family who lived there. 


End file.
